


More Than One Way to Skin a Mayor

by nitrogen_and_crisis



Series: Witcher, Bard, and Goat [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Eskel Needs a Hug (The Witcher), Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insecure Eskel, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Semi-Graphic Castration, Witchers Deserve Soft Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitrogen_and_crisis/pseuds/nitrogen_and_crisis
Summary: It wasn't in Jaskier's original plan, but this seems like a fine day for some revenge on the people who hurt his witcher.(This won't make much since unless you've read the previous one.)
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher, Bard, and Goat [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799704
Comments: 25
Kudos: 206
Collections: Jaskier or Geralt/others (with or w/out eachother)





	More Than One Way to Skin a Mayor

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back, and I'm still not qualified.  
> Thanks to Charlie for beta reading.

Jaskier watches the sun start to rise through the window of the room he and Eskel rented as he cradles Eskel’s sleeping body. Every so often, Eskel would let out a soft whimper or cry and cling to Jaskier like a lifeline. The most distressing one had been a small but fully formed “don’t” that had had Eskel flinching away in his sleep.

Eskel starts to wake up when the sun has crept most of the way over the horizon, shifting to bury his face a little further into Jaskier’s chest before catching himself, reeling back as though he’d been burned. He shouldn’t be imposing himself on Jaskier like this, he’ll leave sooner this way. He’s lucky Jaskier didn’t just walk out on him last night; he shouldn’t push it.

Rather belatedly Eskel realizes that in his haste to not take up Jaskier’s space, he’s accidentally left himself exposed. He drags the inn’s raggedy blanket around him in an attempt to hide the hideous bruise that mars his right side. (And his scars. Nobody wants to look at those either.)

Eskel is dimly aware that Jaskier has gotten up and is moving around the room, but somehow he doesn’t realize that he’s gotten fully dressed until he’s standing right in front of Eskel, talking about how he’s going out to buy some more supplies so that they can replace the potions Eskel drank yesterday. And then he’s leaving with a small bag and his lute wearing his bright blue doublet and he’s never going to come back, is he? Jaskier has left him behind for good.

For his part, Jaskier’s goals for the day are pretty simple: get the ingredients Eskel needs for his witcher potions, get some actually decent food (and not whatever the hell the inn gave him for dinner last night), take care of Eskel, and  _ avoid  _ murdering the mayor, tempting as it is.

Every inch of Jaskier’s being itches to find the assholes who did this to Eskel and make them suffer but he (one) isn’t sure where he’d even start and (two) should probably get back to Eskel sooner rather than later. That doesn’t stop him from cursing the men who hurt the kindest, most caring person Jaskier has ever met to every god he’s ever heard of in every language he knows. But Jaskier manages to shake off the urge to start castrating people and heads to the market, only stopping to pay for another night in the inn and another night in the stables for Scorpion and Lil’ Bleater (who seem pleased to see him).

At this time in the morning, the market isn’t quite bustling yet, but there are a fair number of people there, attempting to buy and sell everything from herbs to fancy hats. Jaskier’s coin purse is already uncomfortably light when he arrives, so he has to be careful about what he buys. This doesn’t stop him from spending coin he can’t quite afford to spend on a soft blanket for Eskel, because witchers don’t get enough soft things in life (especially Eskel). He’s just finished charming a nice young lady into giving him three loaves of bread for the price of two when he catches the thread of a conversation between two men not even twenty paces away.

“—he was fucking tight too. Bet witchers don’t get it up the ass much though.” The man laughs — a low, slimy sort of thing — and his friend laughs with him. Jaskier moves closer, knuckles going white against his bag’s strap, as the man continues.

“Yeah, he barely even put up a fight. The drug worked like a charm. ‘Course, I was the one to suggest we even ask the witch for a sedative in the first place. It’s what those monsters deserve you know. Gotta knock ‘em down a peg so they don’t go thinkin’ they’re entitled to more of your coin. Helps if you drop ‘em a couple times too.”

Both men laugh again and Jaskier’s blood boils. It doesn’t take much to figure out who they're talking about. Fuck not castrating people. Jaskier is usually against murder, but these people fucking deserve it, so he going to see to it that they all die, and then he’s going to go back to the inn and take care of Eskel. He steels himself and saunters over to the man doing the storytelling.

Thirty minutes later he has the guy’s name, as well as the names of everyone else who helped out. Jaskeir also has the man’s story of what they did to Eskel seared into his brain and a foul taste in his mouth from charming one of the fucking bastards who hurt his witcher.

The mayor’s house has guards, but they let him right in. A mayor has to hear the public’s complaints and concerns after all. And Jaskier most definitely has a complaint to lodge. He also has a knife in his boot.

The initial plan had been to try and charm the mayor, get him alone, but that goes out the window the moment Jaskier sees him. He looks every bit the vile bastard he is and Jaskier shudders internally.

The mayor is apparently not only reprehensible but also just plain stupid, as he has no guards in the room with him. He glances up from his writing as Jaskier approaches, an oily smile stretching across his face. Before the mayor can so much as greet him, Jaskier has his dagger at the man’s throat.

“Order the execution of all the men involved in the ‘fun’ you had with my witcher yesterday. Tell them anything else and I’ll have your guts on the desk faster than you can say ‘jackrabbit,’” Jaskier spits. The mayor just stares at him in blind terror, so Jaskier shakes him, probably harder than strictly necessary. The mayor’s voice shakes when he gives the order. When Jaskier shifts the dagger slightly, he starts begging.

“Spare me! Please! I’ll give you the money for the nekker contract, if you like. I’ll even give you the extra coin your freak wanted.” Jaskier shoves the man’s handkerchief in his mouth in response.

With his free hand, Jaskier frees the man’s genitals from his pants, watching his eyes widen his horror. But the mayor’s mistake is assuming that Jaskier is going to do to the mayor what the mayor did to Eskel.

In one clean movement, Jaskier’s dagger slices downward through flesh and blood vessels, severing the mayor’s cock and balls from his body. It’s… well, it’s kind of gross.

Wrinkling his nose, Jaskier cleans his dagger on the man’s sleeve as best he can and then slips out one of the windows. He glances at the sun and winces. He’s been gone for a fair while longer than he intended to be. Eskel is probably wondering where he’s gone.

Eskel is not wondering where Jaskier has gone. He knows that on no uncertain terms that Jaskier has left. It’s really not hard to see why. He’s nowhere near easy on the eyes, “harsh” is probably the nicest word for his voice, and for someone like Jaskier, who’s so used to Geralt, he makes a poor substitute at best. And now he’s worthless. He couldn’t even defend himself. What good is a witcher who can’t defend himself?

As Jaskier enters his and Eskel’s room, it becomes very apparent that Eskel hasn’t really moved  _ at all _ since Jaskier left. He’s still sitting on the bed with a blanket haphazardly draped around his shoulders, looking impossibly small. To an outsider, Eskel might appear to be brooding, or perhaps just angry, but Jaskier isn’t an outsider and Eskel looks fucking shattered. Something that looks very much like shock flickers across the witcher’s face.

“You… you came back?” Eskel’s voice cracks slightly and Jaskier’s heart  _ aches _ .

“Of course I came back. Why wouldn’t I?” Jaskier asks gently, and Eskel won’t even meet his eyes. Jaskier lets it drop, for now.

“Here, I got us some food. You need to eat.” He offers Eskel some of the bread he bought at the market and a small pot of jam that he dug out of his traveling supplies. Eskel hesitates but accepts the food.

It’s quiet for a little bit while they eat, until Jaskier remembers the other thing he bought for Eskel and is scrambling off the bed to find his abandoned pack.

“I almost forgot, I got you something at the market! Look!” Jaskier produces the blanket he bought from the depths of the bag. “It’s really soft,” he adds proudly, holding it out to Eskel. Eskel takes it, holding it uncertainly.

“I thought it might help you feel better! Soft blankets tend to do that for people. And witchers don’t get enough soft things as is,” Jaskier rambles, gesturing broadly. “Whoever decided that witchers don’t get soft things is a right bastard by the way. You know—” Jaskier cuts himself off quickly because Eskel looks like he’s about to cry again.

“Eskel?” He asks uncertainly, reaching out to him. Eskel lets out a small whimper and buries his face in the blanket.

Jaskier pulls Eskel into a hug carefully, stroking his hair in an absentminded attempt to soothe him. Without really thinking about it, he presses a soft kiss to Eskel’s forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I give a witcher a security blanket? Maybe.  
> I've got like seven more ideas for this series so I'll be back. Promise I'll get to the actual relationship eventually. I also have a seperate Hanahaki AU idea wandering around in my skull, because my brain is a fucking nightmare.


End file.
